Yesterday I finished watering the garden at noon, in the midst of two weeks of no rain, in the midst of a hot humid spell. It is the solstice! And the sun holds forth in this do-se-do upon which the world turns. I feel the yoke of it, the bend, the stakes, the leaning out and squealing as I round the carousel on the best horse, ring in hand, tossing for my fortune. It is the time of spheres, of all things shining and beaming - of round flowers with four, five, one thousand petals, of faces, smiles, yellow, sunflowers, chamomile, and poppy. And balls of every sort. This is the apex of all games. Here, so subtle, so invisible, one contestant cedes way to the other. The ball shifts to the other court.